Wednesday, July 20, 2011

"Who is dat?"

For Christmas in 2008, not quite seven months after the Munchkin Invasion, my sister gave me a cd of songs that she'd burned, just for me.  "Patience for a Mother Pro Tem," she called it.

I love this cd.  Her thoughtfulness in putting it together for me chokes me up more than the songs she picked.

Hubby is out with Large Fry, picking up her Rapunzel cake (here's hoping it's not a wreck).

The twin Fries are alternately coming unglued:  Uncle "didn't hug" Small (he did; I watched him).  Medium can't find her duck.  Medium wants Uncle.  Medium made a "bed" on the living room floor and Small pushed her and messed it up.  Medium wants Uncle again.  Small wants to go to bed, but that's solely so she can suck her thumb.

I popped in this cd because I was sorely lacking in patience.  Laundry had to come out of the dryer.  Laundry had to go in to the dryer.  A new load needed to be started in the washer.  Last minute presents and wrapping stuff needs to go upstairs.  Oh.  And lunch.  There needed to be lunch.

And the heat wave that's impending has filled my ankle with doom and gloom for the last two days, and I don't anticipate it getting any better until after the weekend and the wave both pass.  (And I'm on an ibuprofen hiatus due to next week's surgery.  Argh.  But I digress.)

The first two songs are both sung by men, Bebo Norman and Steven Curtis Chapman respectively.

Then there's a song by the group Caedmon's Call, which is a mixed blend of male and female voices, and who sings what tends to alternate.  One of the women has lead on this song, "Sacred."  Additional voices join in the background on the chorus.

"Auntie, is that you and Uncle singing?" Medium asks.

"No, honey.  It's not."  I'm a contralto.  I can hit low notes that sweet-voiced mezzo can't.  She can hit beautiful high notes that I can't even reach in a suddenly-cold shower.  There's no way that's me.  But I'm amused and flattered that she thinks it could be me.

"Is it Gramma?"

I managed to choke back a laugh.  "No, it's not Gramma."

"Is it Sandi Patty?"

Wait, what?

As I said, I'm a contralto.  Hubby's a tenor.  Most of the music we have in the house is sung by men.  I don't think I even have a Sandi Patty cd anywhere.

When did Medium hear about her?

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